


Love Can Wait

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Innuendo, Light Angst, M/M, One of My Favorites, POV Alternating, Post-Battle of Endor, Post-Battle of Hoth, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 21:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14121507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: In the midst of wars, battles, meddling squadmates, and times good and bad, it's hard to get an uninterrupted moment with the man you love.(or, five romantic moments between Wedge and Tycho that were interrupted and one that wasn't)





	Love Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphorisnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphorisnt/gifts).



i.

The patch of carbon scoring Wedge is currently trying to buff off the top of his ship's starboard strike foil isn't severe, but it is large. He can reach most of it from where he's positioned the block he's standing on to reach it, but he's going to have to climb down and adjust to get at the rest. Reluctant to do so, he reaches again, as far as his arm will allow, to clean a bit more-

Then he's wobbling as his foot hits the edge of the block and he loses balance, a curse dying in his throat as warm hands clamp around his waist.

“Easy,” comes a mild voice, and Wedge rights himself and twists to see Tycho standing below him.

“My hero,” Wedge murmurs, not even caring about the huge dumb smile that's already forming on his face. It's only been a few days since this whole thing really started, but now he can't seem to hold back that look whenever he sees his boyfriend. _Boyfriend._

Tycho grins back at him and moves one hand to tug on his arm. Wedge leans in for the kiss – and starts when something metal clangs against the block.

“You two are absolutely disgusting,” Wes groans.

“Don't let the techs see you treating your tools like that,” Luke shoots back playfully as he slides the hydrospanner Wes had thrown back to him across the floor. Then he raises an eyebrow at Wedge and Tycho. “He's right, though. You guys need to get a room. _After_ we finish our work here.”

Tycho winks up at Wedge. “I'll look forward to it.”

 

ii.

Tycho saw Wedge at the staging site before he lifted off from Hoth. He knows Wedge survived the battle and would have followed him out. But he doesn't know how far behind he might, and that's what's killing him as he waits in the in the hanger bay of the _Liberty_ , pacing fretfully beside his X-wing.

Around him are the others who had flown in Rogue Flight and survived, along with the rest of their squadrons. Too few. They lost a lot of good people today.

Another X-wing comes roaring into the bay, and Tycho's heart leaps desperately as he tries to focus on the colored chevrons denoting its callsign, and finally catches sight of them: three, in faded and scored red. Tycho clenches fists against his legs to stop his hands from shaking with relief. It's Wedge. He's made it.

Tycho is the first one to great him as he comes down the ladder from his cockpit, gently bumping a tech out of the way. “You're late,” Tycho quips, and his voice is mostly steady.

Wedge smiles grimly. “Got here as fast as I could.” He looks around the hanger. “Where's Luke? We need to-”

“Not here,” Tycho tells him, wishing he didn't have to be the bearer of bad news as he watches Wedge's face crumble in distress. “There are a lot of people still missing.”

“He was one of the first to leave the staging site,” Wedge insists, voice rising. “He should've gotten here way before me.”

“I know.” Tycho squeezes his arm. “Anything could have happened. We didn't see him go down.”

“No. We didn't.” Wedge takes a steadying breath. “Who else is missing?”

Together, they go through the list, walking the hanger and checking in with their fellow Rogues. As Tycho had noted, there are too many faces unaccounted for, too many names unchecked on Wedge's datapad. A few stragglers show up eventually, but no Luke. Tycho watches his boyfriend grow more and more distressed and, finally, pulls him aside, seating him on a cargo crate out of sight of the bustle of the hanger behind an unattended shuttle.

“Just take a moment,” Tycho tells him before he can protest. “Breathe.”

Wedge does, shaky. He presses a hand over his eyes. Tycho sits beside him, wraps an arm around his shoulders, feels Wedge let him take some of his weight.

Before Tycho can say anything more, though, an unfamiliar woman's face is peeking around the shuttle. “Commander Antilles?” she asks hesitantly.

Wedge straightens. “That's me.”

The woman looks relieved. “There's an emergency conference of senior officers starting in a few minutes. They want you in attendance, so if you'll come with me?”

Wedge and Tycho exchange a look, and Tycho pats his shoulder before giving him a gentle push. “Go on. I'll be here when you get back.”

 

iii.

Wedge has seen victory before, but never like this. When he stands from his cockpit and pulls off his helmet, he can't help but grin at the celebrating he already sees going on throughout the landing bay around him. The Rebellion took significant losses today, they all know that, but for now the pain is distant, only a small shadow against the much greater triumph.

The second Death Star destroyed. Vader and Palpatine dead. It almost feels like a dream.

“Wedge!” He looks down, sees a growing crowd clustering around his X-wing. He think it's Wes who's shouting. “Get down here, hero!”

“We're _all_ heroes,” Wedge insists as he drops his helmet in the seat and turns to climb down. Among the celebratory chaos, he doubts anyone hears him.

He's halfway down the ladder when he feels hands pulling at him and yelps as he's yanked into the air, suddenly floating on top of the crowd as they yell his name and pile him with praise. Call him Death Star Slayer. Generally act like he did it alone, which is an atrocious lie.

Wedge ignores them as best he can, the huge grin still on his face, as he casts his eyes around the crowd – and quickly spots who he's looking for. Tycho is standing at the edge of the mass of bodies, hands on his hips, blond hair dark with sweat slicked back across his head in way that looks utterly ridiculous and make Wedge's heart warm.

 _Help,_ Wedge mouths to him, and he sees Tycho laugh and shrug helplessly. Wedge wants to kiss him, to wrap him in his arms and soak in the fact that they're still together and now living in a galaxy free of the greatest evil it's faced in their lifetime. He wants to murmur in his boyfriend's ear praises of his own amazing flying through the half-completed death machine's innards as he drew the enemies off of Wedge and the _Falcon_ , whisper all the dirty things he's going to do when they're alone to thank him for it.

But the crowd is moving away, Wedge jostled on his pillar of hands, and Tycho is following, laughing again and mouthing, _Later._

 

iv.

Tycho is sure until the very last moment that this a lie. That New Republic Intelligence would never possibly release him, even though after two months they still can't prove Isard has compromised in any way. He's sure they'll change their minds, chase him down as soon as he actually tries to leave. Or worse, that it isn't real at all, that the promise of freedom is some kind of test, a further torture.

All of that in gone in an instant, though, when he's led through a door to a small room and finds Wedge waiting. Tycho watches the expression on his best friend, his partner's, face go from anxious impatience to a sort of relief so deep it shakes Tycho's bones. Half a breath later, Wedge has crossed the room and folded Tycho into his arms.

Tycho melts into the embrace. It's the first time he's seen Wedge face to face without a wall or guard between them since he left for Coruscant nearly nine months ago. It's been that long since he received any kind of physical affection, and after everything, it's this that nearly breaks him.

But he doesn't fall apart. He doesn't want to do that here. Isard and Akrit'tar and NRI have had everything of him for what feels like as long as he can remember. They don't get to have this. The watchful eyes of the still-present guards and the hungry gaze of the security cameras don't get to have his reunion with the man he loves.

Tycho forces himself to let go, to separate from him, though it's like pulling away part of his own soul. He takes Wedge's hand and says simply, “I'm ready to go.”

 

v.

It's sometime past midnight, Wedge has just rewritten this paragraph of the condolence letter for the fifth time, and it still doesn't say what he wants it to when he clicks the screen of his datapad off and pushes it to the side of his desk. He needs a break, he tells himself. Just a few minutes.

Then an idea occurs to him that instantly buoys his spirits, and he leans toward his computer terminal and punches up a HoloNet connection. Moments later, the hologram shivers into life before him, and Tycho is smiling back at him with surprised pleasure on his face.

“Wedge. It's great to see you.”

“You, too,” Wedge answers, and he wonders if Tycho can sense how much he really means it. “How are you?”

Tycho is good, because when has he ever admitted to being anything but? It does sound like things are going well for Rogue Squadron, though, and Wedge keeps asking questions, filling in the gaps of curiosity that official reports don't. Then Tycho asks about he and the Wraiths, and Wedge tells him what he can – leaving out what's happened that day at Blood Nest. Tycho teases him for accidentally gaining command of another ship, and Wedge rolls his eyes, tells him he's grateful it was once again temporary.

When the innocuous conversation trickles away, Tycho is quiet for a few moments. Then: “So is this just a social call?”

“Can't it be?”

“Of course.”

Wedge sighs, rubbing tired eyes. “I lost my first Wraith today.”

Tycho's face creases. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“She was my wingman and communications specialist. Jesmin Ackbar.”

“Ackbar?”

“The Admiral's niece.” Wedge gestures to the datapad sitting aside on the desk out of Tycho's view. “I'm trying to write the condolence letter. Not making much headway.”

“You'll find it,” Tycho reassures him.

“I always do, eventually.” Wedge has enough practice. He wishes he didn't. He wishes this one wasn't going to someone he knows, a good friend.

“How are you holding up?” Tycho asks.

“I'm all right,” Wedge answers honestly. “It hurts every time of course, but the rest of the squadron is taking it harder. Myn Donos has withdrawn again. Kell Tainer was beside himself that he couldn't save her. I gave him a bit of a talking-to.” Wedge smiles faintly. “You should have seen what he did, Tycho. That kind of flying, the risk he took, even if it didn't work, more than deserves a commendation.” He tells Tycho about it then, the daring maneuvers Kell had pulled, putting himself and his own ship in danger as he tried to keep Jesmin's dying fighter aloft long enough for her to punch out. “These kids are always doing things like that.”

“Kids?” Tycho is clearly amused.

Wedge shrugs. “I feet downright ancient around them sometimes. But they're amazing. Every one of them deserves the chance they've been given in this squadron. They're not perfect, but they're so bright. Half the time they're miles ahead of me, with these harebrained schemes that seem ridiculous but always seem to pan out.”

Tycho is smiling now. “You sound happy.”

Wedge smiles back. “I am. Wraith Squadron still has work to do to become the best unit it can be, but it's off to a great start.”

“You'll make the Rogues jealous.”

Wedge chuckles. “Don't worry, love, I'm still coming back once things are on solid ground here.”

“I'm glad to hear things are going well, but I do miss you.”

“We should arrange to meet up after our time with the _Night Caller_ is done. I'm sure I can swing something.”

“That sounds good.” Tycho tilts his head, gives Wedge a look. “You look tired. What time is it there?”

Wedge glances at his chrono and winces. “Nearly 0300.”

“Wedge,” Tycho admonishes mildly.

“I know. It's the letter. I need to get it done.”

“You shouldn't be talking to me, then. Putting it off won't help.”

“I know. And I did want to talk to you.”

A slow smile blooms on Tycho's face, but before he can say anything, there's the sound of his office door opening, and Wedge hears a familiar voice, its owner is invisible outside the holo's range. “Tycho, we're ready for – oh, is that Wedge? Hello, Commander.”

“Hello, Nawara.”

“One moment.” Tycho turns back to Wedge, a torn look on his face. “Sorry, love, I have to go. You caught me right before a briefing.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't worry about it; I'm always here for you. We'll talk soon, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The holo snaps off, and Wedge takes a deep breath. Fortified, he turns back to his datapad.

 

i.

Tycho is gazing out the window over the towers of Coruscant, the air traffic flowing between them, lights fading down into the deep caverns of the endless city, just thinking, when the door opens behind him and he turns to look.

Wedge is as stunning as ever in his New Republic dress uniform, the same as Tycho himself is wearing, and Tycho wonders again if this will change Wedge's opinion of the thing as he says, “It's bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”

Wedge smiles sheepishly, the dusting of color on his cheeks matching the red stripe down his tunic. “I know, but I wanted a moment just for us before everything starts.”

Tycho's answering smile is soft as he beckons him forward. “This entire day is kind of about us, love.”

“I know.” Wedge steps into his embrace, kisses him lightly, and meets his eyes, his cheeks still holding that adorable flush. Tycho can practically feel his soon-to-be husband's heart fluttering. It must match his own. “We're actually doing this.”

“We actually are.” Tycho takes Wedge's hand and brings it to his lips, skimming a reverent kiss across his knuckles. “After all this time, I finally get to call you mine permanently.”

“You know I've been yours for years.”

“I do.”

Wedge chuckles lightly and squeezes his hand. “You're not supposed to say that yet.”

“Just practicing,” Tycho assures and kisses him again. When it ends, they stay close together, foreheads touching. Tycho's voice is soft when he asks, “Are you nervous?”

“No.” Wedge rests his free hand on Tycho's chest, warm and solid. He shakes his head. “I've wanted this for a long time.”

“I'm so glad we're finally getting it. There were times I wondered,” Tycho admits.

“But we're here now. There'll be other dangers for us, other fights, I'm sure, but like you said, today is about us.” Wedge looks up at him, eyes bright. “Today we get to be together and happy.”

How can Tycho do anything but kiss him again? How can he do anything but love Wedge for the rest of his life, however long that may be?


End file.
